


Rockfall

by PotterheadAvengerDemigod



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, Hopeful Ending, Spider-Man: Homecoming Spoilers, Suicidal Thoughts, but at the same time this happens within the time frame of the movie, but peter gets himself together, i tagged it just in case, its more of a hopeful ending, kind of, not really but he does have some pretty depressing thoughts, so everyone knows how its going to turn out anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-12-02 21:43:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11518089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PotterheadAvengerDemigod/pseuds/PotterheadAvengerDemigod
Summary: How could he be counted on to save lives when he couldn't even save himself?





	Rockfall

**Author's Note:**

> And I'm back in Marvel!  
> Tom's Peter was really really good, in my opinion, but then I thought, why not angst it up a bit? So here we have it!

It’s dark and it’s cold and Peter hurts all over.

He remembers Liz’s Dad collapsing the building on top of him, remembers thinking that someone like him shouldn’t have fallen for something as simple as that.

Mr Stark was right.

He wasn’t ready to be an Avenger, he wasn’t ready to fight the good fight.

How could he be, when he can’t even get himself out of this mess that he got himself into?

How can he be counted on to save people when he can’t even save himself?

“Help,” he croaks, and he can’t even yell now, even his voice is ruined.

Everything is ruined.

His suit is gone, his chance as an Avenger is gone, his affiliation to Mr Stark is gone.

Even his chances with Liz are gone.

God, he’s a mess.

Why didn’t he see this coming? Why? How could he have thought that maybe, just maybe, Liz’s father wasn’t  _ bad? _ The man had almost killed people, had supplied weapons to people who  _ did  _ kill. Had tried to kill Peter himself.

Why? Was it just because he’s a complete fool who refused to believe that someone with a daughter as amazing as Liz could be so innately bad?

Ugh, this is why superheroes don’t date. He can’t even get  _ that _ right.

He’s a failure.

And now he’s probably gotten Ned in trouble too. Maybe Mr Toomes would go for Aunt May next, or maybe he’d attack Ned.

For once Peter’s glad that he doesn’t have that many friends.

“Help,” he forces out again, and there’s a metallic taste in the back of his throat as he inhales, feels the plaster and smashed concrete and cement dust down his throat, drying and scratching and Peter thinks that maybe he’s kind of badly injured.

There’s a patch of something warm on his side, and he focuses his attention on it, the sudden flare of pain that shoots up his spine would have sent him jerking in shock, except that he can’t move.

He’s bleeding from his side, he thinks, and there’s the odd sensation of viscous liquid trailing down his temple that tells him he’s bleeding from his head too.

His ribs are aching, but other than the shredded throat he doesn’t taste blood, so he doesn’t think he has to worry about a punctured lung.

Not yet, at least.

He’s a bloody idiot.

_ Heh, emphasis on bloody,  _ he thinks, huffing out a breath.

Why did he think he could do this? Why did he think he could possibly take on a high tech, clearly highly intelligent villain all by himself, without the upgraded suit Mr Stark provided?

Why did he think he could do it without Stark backing, without Karen in his ear telling him what he -no, what his  _ suit-  _ could do?

He really is nothing without the suit.

And now he’s going to die for his presumptions.

The weight of the concrete on his back is crushing, hemmed in the way he is on all sides, and it’s a small comfort that he can actually move his arms, if not much else.

He thinks his ribs might be cracked, and he’s a little afraid of what the concrete pressing into his back might do to his spine in the long run, but he signed up for this, right?

But now he’s alone and there’s no help coming. The only person who knows where he is is Ned, and Ned had gone offline a couple of minutes back, before Peter had even confronted Mr Toomes.

He’s not naïve enough to think that help’s going to come.

He’s not worth enough that someone else would come to save him. Not when there was a villain on the loose and Stark plane to catch.

And even Mr Stark isn’t going to come. Not this time.

No, Peter had failed too many times, disobeyed and disappointed his hero and now he’s paying the price.

He’d just wanted to be like Mr Stark, to be like Iron Man.

He’d just wanted to help.

But he isn’t good enough to do even that.

The warehouse district that he's in is deathly quiet, the only sound the dripping of water around him, the sound of Peter himself breathing, but it’s as silent as a tomb.

Maybe it is a tomb.  _ His _ tomb.

Will he die here? What would Aunt May think when she found out he was Spiderman, when they pulled his dead body from the ruins of the abandoned warehouse, still clad in that godawful “suit” that he’d pieced together out of an old hoodie and sweats, cold and unmoving?

Would Aunt May be upset? Horrified at losing him?

Maybe she’d be quietly relieved because of the one less mouth she’d have to feed, quietly relieved because she wouldn’t have to worry about her wayward, disobedient, horror of a fifteen year-old nephew any longer.

But no, Aunt May isn’t as callous as that, Aunt May is so kind, caring, so inherently  _ good _ that she’d probably mourn even a disaster like Peter.

He silently prays that she’ll recover quickly from his death, that she wouldn’t mourn him as long as she mourned Uncle Ben, that she would put his memory aside and move on.

He doesn’t want to keep being a burden even in death.

The building seems to be pressing in even harder now, like the little space he has buried under the slabs of stone and cement is slowly being compressed by the pull of gravity. He wonders if the shrinking is just his imagination or if it’s real, and if it is, how long would it be before he’s crushed to a bloody pulp?

But Vulture’s still out there, still targeting Mr Stark’s plane, and maybe if Peter could somehow get out of here he’d be able to stop him, stop the villain from stealing all of the things that Mr Stark values, all that amazing technology, the pride and joy that Mr Stark couldn’t find in Peter himself.

If he can’t save himself he could at least try to save Mr Stark from having his inventions weaponised against innocents again, right?

He knows he has enhanced strength from the spider bite, he knows that he can do crazy things like lift up the entire row of lockers at school with one hand, but he’s never tried lifting an entire collapsed building. Especially when he’s buried under it and has no leverage whatsoever.

But he has to try, right?

He pushes up a bit, gets his hands under him and  _ shoves,  _ and the building moves maybe an inch before Peter can’t hold the weight any longer and he collapses, the heavy slab falling back in place.

He tries again.

Same result.

It’s pointless. He’s too weak, too incapable. He’s worthless, incompetent, and so what if he’s smart enough to make his own web fluid in the school lab? He can’t help anyone anyway. He couldn’t even use his smarts to get out of the Damage Control facility fast enough to help the decathlon team, and look, that’s  _ another  _ way he royally screwed up.

_ Hah. Superhero? More like super letdown,  _ he scoffs inwardly, and what’s the point of even trying if he’s ultimately going to fail?

“Help,” he gasps, and his breath is rasping in his throat, tepid water dripping from his hair and into his mouth, and God, look at him, look at how pathetic he is. “Help, is anyone there?”

Silence. Of course. Who’s going to risk their lives to look for a screw up like him?

He feels the tears that begin gathering in his eyes, and he’s not entirely sure whether they’re tears of pain or tears of distress, but dammit, either way he’s Spiderman and he shouldn’t be so  _ weak. _

The pressure is building up in his chest now, a rising bubble of misery and abandonment growing and growing, pressing on his lungs and heart and _everything_ _hurts_ and God, maybe everything _would_ be better if he just died.

He can’t help the sob that rips out of his throat, the whimpers that follow, and  _ why is this so hard? _

He rips his mask of his head, that useless,  _ useless _ mask that couldn’t even prevent his greatest enemy to date from discovering who he was.

Everything was so pointless now. He can’t stop Vulture from reaching the plane, can’t stop Mr Stark’s amazing inventions from being weaponised, can’t save the people who will no doubt be injured or maybe even killed by those weapons.

He’s as useless as his mask.

His mask, with the stupid hard-to-see eyepieces, with the horrible fabric that rips and tears too easily, the fabric that does nothing to protect and everything to hinder, that stupid, dumb outfit that paled in comparison to the wonderful suit that Mr Stark had taken back.

_ If you’re nothing without the suit than you shouldn’t have it. _

And even Mr Stark thought he was useless now, had blatantly told him to his face that he was nothing.

He ducks his head, and he ignores the tears tracking down his cheeks now, because screw it, he was going to die here, let him cry, alright?

A single tear drips off his chin and sends ripples through the puddle of stagnant water that slowly gathers under him, and he looks down, almost entranced by the imperfections that fan out across his own reflection. His mask is still visible in the reflection, but more than anything, the brown of his hair and eyes catches his attention, and then the distortions make it seem like the mask and his face are one.

_ If you’re nothing without the suit then you shouldn’t have it. _

And maybe Mr Stark didn’t mean that he was useless.

Maybe Mr Stark wanted him to learn to cope by himself.

Maybe Mr Stark didn’t want him reliant on technology.

Maybe Mr Stark didn’t want Spiderman to become like Iron Man.

_ I wanted you to be better.  _ The words echo through his head now, soft and sad and  _ disappointed,  _ and maybe, just maybe, Peter  _ could _ be better.

He shifts again, gets his hands under him and  _ pushes. _

“You can do this, Spiderman,” he mumbles, and the concrete shifts above him.

“You can do this, Peter,” he continues, and this time he doesn’t give up.

_ Come on, Pete. You got this. You’re not the suit. You’re not Spiderman,  _ Spiderman _ is  _ you.  _ You got this. _

And Peter pushes.

The ground is wet and hard and rough beneath his thinly gloved palms, and the broken concrete is digging into his flesh, but dammit,  _ he’s Spiderman, he can do this. _

The slab shifts, lifts away from the ground, and all the weight is on him now, the tens of thousands of pounds of stone shifting and giving way, giving way to  _ him _ .

He forces his arms to shove at the ground below him, and now that he’s got some space to move, now that he’s got more leverage, he thinks he might actually be able to do this.

Above him the collapsed ceiling slowly inches to the side, and he pushes up even more, forcing the stone slab to shift to the side until it finally,  _ finally _ falls off his shoulders and to the ground, and he did it, he’s free, and he didn’t need his Stark suit.

He’s not nothing, and he doesn’t need the suit to be Spiderman.

He  _ is  _ Spiderman, and he’s Peter Parker, and they are one and the same.

In the distance Avengers Tower shines like a beacon, and a plane takes off from the runway, and Peter can see the miniscule winged figure following in its wake, and he grins. He flings out an arm, depressing his webshooters, and takes to the sky.

He’s Peter Parker, and he’s got this.

**Author's Note:**

> Man, Spiderman: Homecoming was good! I loved Tom Holland as Peter, he was so freaking good? Even in Civil War he kind of already brought across the more happy-go-lucky, cheerful, joking side of Peter Parker rather than the angsty, I-will-do-anything-for-the-people-I-love side that the previous movies portrayed, and that's good! Of course, I kinda negated that opinion with this fic but I still love Peter being portrayed as the kid he is!
> 
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